855. A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, “darkness” on the walls of his cell. ~C.S. Lewis

When I saw others straining toward God, I did not understand it,
for though I may have had Him less than they did,
there was no one blocking the way between Him and me…
~Rainer Maria Rilke

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Dawn broke yet again this morning, Praise Yahweh
The sun brought back light from out of darkness, Praise Elohim
Creatures stirred fulfilling ordained purposes, Praise Adonai
The breeze, a holy breath, blew through Eden, Praise Jehovah
Flowers bloomed offering their nectar, Praise El Shaddai
Grasses grew proffering food for cattle, Praise God
Blood yet flows through my veins, Praise Jesus
Air yet fills my lungs with breath, Praise the Lord
Holiness rises still from all the eyes can see
and all the ears can hear, Praise the Ancient of Days
I am alive by His Grace, and so I persist, persist
in praising the Holy One who created everything that is.
What a gift, what a privilege to adore and praise Him
by whatever name that has come down through the ages!
~Natalie Scarberry

Since ancient times, roses have symbolized God at work in whatever situation they appear. The intricate and elegant rose offers a glimpse of a masterful Creator’s active presence in Creation. As this popular flower blossoms, its buds gradually open to reveal blossoms with lovely layers — an illustration of how spiritual wisdom unfolds in people’s lives. The strong, sweet scent of a rose brings to mind the powerful sweetness of love, which is the essence of God. ~Via the Internet

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. ~John 1:1-5  ✝

559. Here on gray paths of November like a trembling hand a beam of light caressing my pain and my soul breathes the sweet scent of God. ~Frédéric G. Martin

At no other time (than autumn) does
the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell,
the ripe earth; in a smell that is in
no way inferior to the smell of the sea,
bitter where it borders on taste,
and honeysweet where you feel it
touching the first sounds.
~Ranier Maria Rilke

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There’s a nip in the morning air. The willow leaves have turned yellow, and the once green lawn has now donned its beige coat. As autumn continues to morph into winter, the sun streaks across the yard from its more southerly stance. In the aftermath of recent rain and wind, the redbud tree scarcely has any leaves, and the Rose of Sharon stands naked in the chilled garden. Beneath her the rose hips are dressed in scarlet and above the oaks leaves are reddening. The whir of butterfly wings is gone, the hum of the bees is gone, the fragrance of the blossoms is gone, and yet something mysterious, something magical, something hallowed remains. But what is it? What is alway present in Eden’s haunts? Surely you must know for all around us the air sweetly speaks of the unmistakable, unending, undying, abiding aroma of El Shaddai, the Lord God Almighty.

They have ears, but cannot hear, noses but cannot smell. ~Psalm 115:6   ✝